


Battle Scars

by harrypotteristherapy, PenguinLoki



Series: Agápe verse [4]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2437229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrypotteristherapy/pseuds/harrypotteristherapy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinLoki/pseuds/PenguinLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all scars are physical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! Updated a day before the two week mark. Not quite what was originally planned for this update but we think you all can wait just a bit longer for us to refine the more intense fics. Besides this little gem gives you all a slight taste of what to expect in the coming weeks. Just remember we like you all.
> 
> As always, follow us on Tumblr at knitink and penguinloki where we post sneak peeks of fics as well as arguments about the fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: When we take over the show we'll have the Cardinal come back from the dead and be played by Christopher Eccleston with no explanation.

Porthos knew it was going to be a bad morning when he woke to Aramis’ head tucked under his chin, hands fisted in the t-shirt he had thrown on to sleep in last night because of the chill, and Athos missing from the bed. Aramis lay against him, taking deep breaths that would falter every few, hands clenching tighter with every short breath.

Porthos wrapped his arms tighter around Aramis, laid his cheek against those unruly curls.

"Athos didn't come home last night," Aramis said in whisper to the base of Porthos’s throat. "No missed calls or texts."

One of Porthos’s hands came up from it's place on Aramis hip and gently grasped his hair, "He's fine. 'm sure of it." Porthos rubbed at Aramis’ scalp, hoping the action would soothe him.

"Probably got caught up in the case. You know how he is. Pup’s probably with 'im. They'll be home soon enough."

Aramis gave a slight nod as he attempted to get closer to Porthos, trying, it seemed, to melt into his side entirely.

"Have you eaten?" Porthos asked.

He felt the shake of a head, and saw the curls move with it. "Then let me up. At least get ya some toast and tea. Calm both our nerves."

Aramis chose to reply by simply releasing his death grip on Porthos’ shirt and rolling off of the other man so that Porthos could get up.

Porthos pressed a kiss to Aramis’ temple before he stood to leave the room. He would have to do double duty today, and the thought was exhausting enough to make him want to climb back into bed. Aramis’s bad days had become much less frequent since college, but there were still days especially on certain anniversaries.

 _Sometimes_ , (in his darker moments) Porthos wished that he could find Marsac and kill him with his bare hands for putting Aramis through all this. For putting all of them through this.

He went through his mental checklist, reminding himself to add in Athos’ portion of the routine. Call into work, check up on how Ang was doing with Alex, get Aramis to eat something, anything really, change the combination on the safe… don’t leave him alone for too long at any one time. Then start the search for Athos.

But before Porthos had made it past the bedroom door he heard the opening and closing of the front door downstairs along with swears that could have only come from the pup. He shot a quick look over his shoulder to see if Aramis had noticed, yet the man remained huddled under the blankets, his eyes distant staring at something that wasn't there. _Joy_.

Porthos sighed, and made his way to the kitchen, hoping that Athos was with d’Artagnan and had a good reason for not letting them know he’d be gone all night. Last he’d heard, they were nearing the end of the case and they hadn’t foreseen any problems with the arrest. Better be a damn good reason for not comin’ home last night.

After living with them for six years, d’Art was usually able to get up the stairs very quickly regardless of how tired, intoxicated he was. However, when Porthos looked down the stairs he realized what was taking the boy so long.

There, slumped against the lanky frame of d'Artagnan, was Athos. It was not the slump of a drunken man; even when Athos was a drink away from alcohol poisoning he had held himself better than this when he had the support. Nor was this the slump of a man physically injured, although Athos did have his left arm bound to his chest.

Judging from the dark circles it was sleep deprivation that had done his husband in. Not surprising, Porthos reflected, as he hadn’t slept much the night before last and clearly not at all last night. It seemed the arrest hadn’t gone as smoothly as planned.

“I can make it up the stairs, d’Art.”

“You’re a filthy fucking liar, Athos,” d’Artagnan muttered to him before looking up and seeing Porthos standing at the top of the stairs. "Can I get some help here?"

"Sure but it'll cost ya,” Porthos said, though he descended the stairs to help nonetheless.

d'Art rolled his eyes, "Anything at this point."

Athos turned his head to look up the stairs, his movements uncharacteristically sluggish, “Why’re you up?”

“It’s morning, Athos.” Porthos stated dryly.

Athos nodded slowly, apparently not awake enough to finish his original train of thought. “Where’s Aramis and Lucy?”

"Havin' a bad day." Porthos took d'Arts place, Athos right arm thrown over his shoulder, Porthos left arm wrapped around Athos waist. “Ang is with Alex, and don’t let Aramis hear you call her that.”

Porthos would have carried Athos upstairs if he knew for certain that a dislocated shoulder was the only injury his husband had. But Aramis trained him better than that. Just because he couldn't see it didn't mean it wasn't there.

d'Art stood on Athos left side, arm also wrapped around the man's waist and together the two hauled the conscious, but not quite aware, man upstairs.

Aramis was shaken from his daze when the door to the master opened more loudly than intended and shot up upon the sight of Athos being supported by his husband and their brother, "Stay there 'mis and let 'im be for a few minutes. The pup's agreed to spill the beans but let's get ourselves somethin' to eat first and let the boy change."

They set Athos to sit on the edge of the bed, "Go clean yourself up, Art, and get some toast and tea while you're at it. We've got Athos handled."

d'Art fled the room, and Porthos in reality had Athos handled. Aramis was fretting about Athos which was making his bad day worse. Yet was still trying to do what he could to help, by setting pillows behind Athos who at some point had fallen asleep despite Porthos man handling him out of his work clothes.

It took some time Porthos and Aramis to get Athos changed  and Aramis calmed down. Once done Porthos called into work for the three of them (though he found out there was no reason to call in for Athos from Treville). By then the Pup had returned, dressed in his pajamas carrying a tray of food and tea.

The tray was set at the foot of the bed, and d'Art laid down on the other side of Athos, making him and Porthos the ones on the outside, Athos and Aramis between them, neither fully aware of the conversation happening around them.

"What the fuck happened?" Porthos demanded.

d’Artagnan flinched, "Would you rather the long version or the short?"

"The version that leads to me not kickin' your ass," he said glaring.

"Ah. Medium it is then. You speak to Treville today?” Asked with a grimace.

Porthos raised an eyebrow in fashion similar to that of Athos. "Yeah. Now start speakin’ or you gonna have to find a new place to live."

“Be nice to him,” Aramis chided absently, hand clutching Porthos shirt once more. “He’s our little brother.”

d'Art  scratched the back of his head, well aware that he had both Aramis’s and Porthos’s attention on him now. "We finished the case, turns out the bastard hadn't gone as far as we thought. Not before, however, he'd killed two more. Bastard killed his own brother and son.

"The guy put on a hell of chase I'll give him that, bruised the both of us a good bit. But we got the guy cuffed, Etienne’s team was there taking care of the evidence so we drove the bastard back to the station. We had the guy being processed when....Well shit hit the fan."

d’Artagnan glanced down and fiddled with the cup of tea in his hands. "Some new police officer made a remark that must have been to Athos. Said that if the bastards who kill their brothers go to prison then why is Athos out on the streets pretending to be one of us."

He set the cup of tea down before he spilled it. "I couldn't grab a hold of him quick enough. He had hit the guy with a left hook faster than I could blink. Next thing I know they're on the ground trying to beat the pulp out of each other. The guy was a good bit bigger than Athos and must have hit his shoulder at a bad angle because when we started to pull Athos off the guy his left shoulder just came right out of the socket.

"Took nearly 5 of us to pull him off, which must have had something to do with it. Anyhow Treville was out for blood and at first I thought Athos would be the one getting suspended. Turns out the new guy was already walking a thin line, he’s no longer is an officer."

“Good,” Porthos practically growled.

"It was well past midnight when Treville and I got Athos to the ER, though Athos was insistent neither of you be called. Said he didn't want to bother you with this though I never did get the full reason why out of him. Treville must have as he stopped insisting after that. I assumed it was better to follow his lead."

Porthos and Aramis looked at each other and Aramis sighed. "Bonnaire. "

"Who?" d’Artagnan asked, looking eager for information.

Porthos let out a groan around the cup of tea he had grabbed. "No one worth talkin’ about before we get some sleep."

d'Art despite his curiosity was already heavy lidded, he hadn't slept in two days due to the mess that the case had been. Aramis used the hand not clutching Porthos’s shirt to hold Athos’s right below were Aramis had rested his head on his shoulder.

"Sleep sounds good," Aramis said quietly. "We'll tell you when you're older, pup."

"I'm 26 years old," d’Artagnan whined though he turned on his side and carefully flung an arm over Athos.

Porthos smirked and slid down at Aramis's tugging hand. "Still too young. Now sleep and we'll see about the rest of things later."

d'Art did not reply, already fast asleep curled up on his side, carefully pressed against Athos, the hand that been flung over Athos reaching for Porthos. Aramis and Athos were also asleep though Athos lay unusually still something likely caused by the pain medication and finally sleeping after so long without.

Porthos himself laid on his side, reaching his arm out over Aramis and Athos, grabbing a hold of the tank top d'Art slept in, his other arm went under Aramis and grabbed a hold of Athos shirt pulling him and therefore Aramis toward himself.

There would be things to talk about and sort out once they all woke up, and family to call and speak with.

But for now sleep.

They all deserved it.

 

**Outtakes (blue for harrypotter, green for penguin):**

****


End file.
